Further south

Free internet, woo hoo! The route to finding a place with free internet was a long and arduous one, but I'm taking full advantage of it now.

So V and I hit Nelson, the sunniest spot in NZ that was decidedly not sunny (at least not until today, the day we left.) But it's an adorable waterfront town with lots of artsy folks and expats. We took a bone carving class with a German guy, and created surprisingly beautiful pendants for ourselves. Seriously, this dude was an example of an excellent teacher, who explained each step, helped each person in the class create unique pieces, and fixed our mistakes while still making us feel like we we instrumental in making the piece. He used to be a guitar maker in Germany which really quite a sexy thing, don't you think?

So that was a fun day in Nelson, followed by meeting a lovely lesbian couple who own a B&B. If I haven't already explained this, I'm doing some research on gay-owned lodgings around NZ for a possible article. This is how I've been meeting completely random people in sections of town I may not have gone to otherwise. It's been interesting. After that, um, hell, I've forgotten. We probably got Thai food, because for some reason that's been our main staple in NZ.

Yes, we did get Thai food. The movie we wanted to see was sold out, so we went for a drive along the coast and then found Thai food. It was one of those odd NZ situations though. It was 8:30 and they were closing up because it had been a slow day, due to the fact that it was after a holiday weekend and "everyone has spent their money." They strongly suggested that we order take out. (I might mention that the night before (we keep tending to eat late), we tried to go to an Italian restaurant. They were having a function, and at first wouldn't seat us, and then relented and gave us a run-down of the menu and what we could order. As in "I have two filets left in the kitchen, I can offer gnocchi but not linguini" etc. This also relates to another anomoly in this country, in which store owners will actually leave their post and put up a sign that says "Back in 10 minutes." Odd.)

Anyhoo, we brought our food home and just chilled out in the nice apartment provided by a lovely gay couple. I met them this morning at their own B&B and they were wonderful people. V and I then had a fabulous lunch at a vineyard, followed by a browse in a glass gallery (my mother would be so happy with this kind of day), and then headed to the airport to go to Dunedin.

It did occur to us today that we didn't have accomodations in Dunedin arranged. This is the kind of pre-planning that one really ought to do. I found what sounded like a nice place in the Lonely Planet, although it was listed in the "budget" section. I've been feeling a lot of guilt over spending too much money, so it seemed reasonable for a one-bedroom. I did, however, forgot to ask questions like "Is there a private bathroom?" Once we got to Dunedin and dropped off by the shuttle, we were faced with a big sign that said "Backpackers Accommodations." This country is filled with backpackers hostels, and they are decidedly not what V and I are comfortable with anymore. Maybe if I were traveling alone, but we've gotten incredibly spoiled with things like decent hotel rooms and car rentals.

So we go to the front door of the address I had, where there is a sign for "Manager," and a girl in a Catholic school uniform. I may add that the Catholic schools here have the longest uniform skirts I've ever seen. She took one look at the backpacks that we're lugging around, and sent us next door, to a different address. We walked in, and were hit by the smell of frying onions. In the communal kitchen. The stoned guy at the front desk didn't have our reservations, and smirked when I asked for the "one bedroom." He took us past the communal bathroom, and the separate communal shower, to a teensy room with two very pink beds. We were out of there before they could ask us our names. What we figured out later was that the first place we had been to was probably the correct place, as described by the Lonely Planet, but we were sent next door to the hostel where we didn't want to be. Confusing, eh?

Of course, what that meant for V and I was that we were stuck in a random tiny city, at 7:30 p.m., with no hotel and big giant backpacks. Finally standing on a street corner calling up hotels, we found a B& that thankfully could take us.

Now, to get to this B&B, it turned out we had to walk about a 3/4 of a mile, more than half of which was uphill. Like way uphill. We werent sure how far we had to go, and about halfway up, when we asked a girl for directions, she said "There's this lump, and then another lump and it's there." V wisely asked "By lump, do you mean the horizon?" Yes. Panting and breathless we arrived at what turned out to be an absolutely adorable B&B run by a very gentle man and his wife, though I haven't met her yet.

I've never stayed at a B&B before, but I've always wanted to because they sound so cute. My husband is not so down with the idea, citing the reason that "You get a bed, and a breakfast...in someone else's house!" I'm stating it on paper now...he's absolutely right. While our room is nice, and I'm excited about croissants and tea tomorrow, and the owner is extremely pleasant AND I have free internet, there is something supremely awkward about being in someone else's house. Like, they live here. They mostly hang out upstairs apparently, but still.

Anyhoo, it's all well and good. Dunedin is sort of a dinky town, but tomorrow I'm meeting more gay B&B owners (and I wonder why everyone thinks I'm gay?), then we're taking a ferry to the Otago peninsula to see penguins, seals and albatrosses. I kn0w, albatrosses. How random.